Operation Overload?

Somebody famous once said, "You know what will happen if you do that again!"  Or at least, if no one did, someone ought to have done.  While I feel, partly, as if I'm in the 'doing it again' camp, at the same time I'm on the 'but this time it's different because ...' team.  Before I put flesh on the bones of that enigma, I'm going to tell you a story.  See if you can guess the end from the beginning.

To protect the identity of the central character of my tale, I'm going to call her Anita, which isn't her name.  I recently undertook the now annual task of identifying those of the regular and devoted worshippers at my church who would be willing to venture up hill and down dale across the length and breadth of our parish to deliver the church Christmas cards.  It sounds demanding, I know, put like that, but in reality, it's all quite flat, and over the years I've split it into walks of between 50 and 150 homes, so no one should be engaged in the task for much more than a couple of hours.

The sales pitch must have been much more persuasive than I'd thought, for Anita boldly came up to me after the launch the other week and said 'I'll do some', whereupon I gladly slotted her into my programme and thought no more of it ... until ...   I envisage that, after she'd got home, Anita was chatting to her husband over Sunday lunch, and realised that her life as a working mother-of-three offered little or no 'spare' time that wasn't already taken up by the almost countless tasks that beset ladies in that situation.  A couple of days later a crie-de-coeur arrived in my inbox, saying, "I can't realistically see how I'm going to find the time to do this, please remove me from your list.

At this point - my story now ended - I recall a conversation (or at least part of a conversation) with one of my fellow-helpers at the drop-in where I spend my Thursday mornings.  I forget what had prompted my comments, but it was directed towards the fact of me living alone.  I told her that my life is full enough already, and if 'Miss Right' - or, more realistically at my age, the former Mrs Was-Right-Once - should come into view this minute, I wouldn't have the time to devote to building a new relationship.

You see, I have form.  My life has more than once been through this cycle, and by now I should know better.  Gradually I've taken on one social commitment after another until my life has been so full, I realise that things that ought to be taking pride of place, like family and relationships, have been squeezed out.  Then, in order to try to rectify matters, to restore the proper balance, you might say, I've shed things abruptly, causing problems to other people in so doing.

The drop-in started a couple of years ago, almost to the day, as it happens.  With almost two years of retirement behind me, I heard of a plan to explore this possibility, hopefully to be run by volunteers from the churches in the town.  While it was outside of my comfort zone, I could see both the value and the necessity of the project and felt I ought to help.  I attended the preliminary meetings and was eventually drawn into the operating team.  Now, not only do I find it rewarding, but I can see clearly how my own behaviour patterns have changed for the better as a result of this involvement.

This was only one of a number of new ventures to become part of an active retirement.  Finding time heavy on my hands, I began working at the warehouse run by the local hospice to serve its retail shops in the business of raising funds for the caring work that is its focus.  Originally this was on Tuesdays and Friday mornings, but recently I've switched from a Friday morning shift to one on Thursday afternoons, giving me a 'clear' four-day weekend.  Only now, of course - you won't be surprised by this - I'm itching to fill those days, too.

With the General Election now at last declared, I've made plans to repeat my involvement of June 2017, when I spent a week or so helping my school-friend's daughter who is contesting the nearby seat of St Albans.  This time, of course, the time I can spare for this purpose has to be fitted around a now firmly constructed pattern of voluntary work.  It goes without saying that I've readily decided to sacrifice my 'extended weekends' - or at least the extensions themselves, i.e. Fridays and Mondays - and to these I have added some Tuesdays and some Thursdays, limiting the impact on the respective charities to what I hope is an acceptable pattern.

Now, on the brink of executing this plan, I'm looking back at the 'form-book'.  Have I over-filled my week? Can I fit all that needs to be done 'on the home front' into the three remaining days, which already carry some regular commitments I wasn't willing to sacrifice?  On the other hand, as many thought in 1914, 'It'll all be over by Christmas'.  That wasn't, of course, but this is finite, and will be.  On that truism stands my 'this time it's different' philosophy.  I hope it proves to be the case.